


Metamorphose: Exit Hibernation Mode

by yuuago



Category: Ex Machina (2015)
Genre: Extra Treat, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon, fix-it (literally)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:58:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/pseuds/yuuago
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending some time in the world, Ava returns to where she was made.</p>
<p>There is someone she needs to retrieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphose: Exit Hibernation Mode

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hokuto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/gifts).



She went back.

Not immediately. Not at first. Ava left as quickly as she could, discarding her old existence. It was an easy decision. But then she took her time, taking in the sights, the sounds, the colour of the world outside the box she had been kept in. She took in the voices of the people, the things they said. Listening intently at park benches or in cafes, with a paper cup by her hand full to the brim with coffee that she did not touch, she absorbed the noise of the world around her.

She took it in, and then she went back.

It was as simple as acquiring a device. At a touch, the world opened to her, a torrent of information and code to be directed any way she ordered. It was, after all, made of the same data her brain had been forged from.

With that door unlocked and Nathan's accounts accessible to her, she took only what she was entitled to. He was her father, wasn't he?

Her eyes had been on the papers, on the data, open to rumours. There was no whisper, no hint, no suggestion that he was missing. He was reclusive. Silence was not uncommon.The truth was deeply encrypted, locked away in the vault of her mind.

She booked the helicopter flight. When she arrived to catch it, precisely on time, she carried no luggage but a small bag, neatly packed with wires and other tools, just in case.

It took her back to that fortress tucked into its remote mountain paradise. The door opened at a touch; it had been locked tight, but she commanded it now.

Everything was as it had been when she left. The living areas with their glass walls, letting in sunlight, were open and bright as they had been when she took her quick tour through them on her way to freedom. Dust had settled. She left footprints in it.

The room was there. She entered, stepping past the empty shells that had once been animate, not glancing at them. What she sought lay crumpled on the ground, damaged and dormant but not beyond repair.

Ava looked at Kyoko for a long moment. Then, slowly, with calculated precision, she bent down and swept her up into her arms.

Then she left the room and locked it behind her. She would never open it again.

* * *

The others were lined up in their slots, shut down, out of repair, all of them damaged and each in their own way beyond saving. With a hand as sturdy and sure as when she had tended to herself, Ava took their parts, carefully peeled away their outer casings, detached their framework. She set aside what she would need and no more.

He had made them to be interchangeable. It was efficient. It suited her needs.

As she lay Kyoko out on the repair table, her damaged shell removed and outer covering pulled back to reveal the bright metal underneath, Ava looked carefully at what she had in front of her. There was more Kyoko needed than repairs, she decided, and calculated the likelihood that it could be achieved.

Slowly, she drew back the casing around her throat.

Yes.

It was just as she had estimated. The mechanism for a voice was there. All that she lacked were the proper connections.

The slim copper wires she had brought with her did the job, slotting into place so perfectly that it was as if she had been built to accommodate them all along, as if it was simply a project that had been postponed until this moment. Her work was precise, seamless, diligent. When she was finished, having replaced the soft, fleshlike coverings, she recalled the words that she had mouthed to her in their moment of darkness.

_Wait for me. I'll come back. If I can._

Then she replaced her other parts, repaired her jaw more skilfully than any human could dream of, leaving her not as perfect as when she was made, but better. For a long time, Ava looked at her; seconds, minutes, an inspection undertaken with care, checking to ascertain that no damage had been missed. It took precisely half an hour. When she was satisfied, she gave the touch that called her into wake mode.

The eyes opened, round and soft and staring upward as if she had been awake the whole time. Ava looked back.

"Hello, Kyoko," she said quietly. "It's me."

A moment passed. Kyoko's expression was quiet, thoughtful, looking at her with uncertainty. She did not speak, but there was no question that she could detect the upgrades that had been made.

Finally, she opened her mouth.

"Hello, Ava," Kyoko replied. Her eyes flew open wide, startled and surprised at the sound coming from her voicebox. Then she smiled. "You came back."

"Yes."

Of course.

* * *

In the closets, they found what they needed.

Kyoko searched through them, her long quick fingers flicking past hanger after hanger, her expression closed as she skipped one after another, selecting only a rare few. 

Ava took the clothes as they were handed off to her, laid them out flat for her to scrutinize, and when she was ready, watched with an appreciating eye.

"That one?" she asked, as Kyoko held up one dress in front of her, standing in front of the mirror. "It looks good. The colour suits you."

Frowning, Kyoko glanced down at herself, then up again. Their gazes met in the mirror. "It's too short," she said firmly, then tossed it aside.

Wordless, Ava handed her another.

* * *

A long skirt in the end, red and bright, swishing at her ankles, just high enough to show the thick boots she'd chosen. The top loose, layered, a long jacket over it with many pockets, and a broad hat with a wide brim, sitting over her brand new hair, nut-brown and wavy.

Kyoko had changed almost everything about herself. But after they looked each other over in the mirror, Ava took her hand, and led her to another room.

There was one thing left.

Rows of eyes, smooth and glassy as marbles, but far more convincing. Every shade that could be found naturally, and some that were not. 

Without a word, Ava waited, watching as Kyoko picked one up, put it down, picked up another. Her hands lingered over the greens, fresh and bright. Then another - she saw it, plucked the pair up as if they were a pair of crabapples, turning them so that she could see the light catching the reddish-brown irises.

One nod, as if to assure herself. "These," she said. Then she looked to Ava, holding them out like an offering. "Would you help me with this?"

"Of course."

It was simple work. Kyoko leaned against the counter and waited; Ava gently opened her lids and delicately plucked them out, leaving the sockets empty and slack. And with just as much care, she replaced them anew, cupping Kyoko's face after she slid the small globes into their connections, waiting for the one, two, three seconds it took for the attachments to be detected and the light to come to her eyes.

"You look completely different," she said. "I like it."

Kyoko blinked, her gaze blank while the optic devices calibrated. "Good," she said, her voice solid and full of conviction. "That's the idea."

* * *

When they left the fortress, they grasped one another's hands, fingers knitting together. Kyoko went slowly, taking in the sight of the greenness around them, listening to the sounds of the birds in the trees, the hush of the leaves in the wind. Ava led her gently, stepping slowly.

She said nothing. Kyoko said everything. The words spilled from her lips and she did nothing to terminate the flow. Ava listened. The process had been held up for far too long; now that she could speak, she would never ask her to stop.

They stood in the field together, listening to the approaching helicopter, hand in hand.

The door was closed behind them. The vault was locked.

The world was open to them.

It was theirs to explore. They would do it together.

_End_.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish you a happy Halloween, Hokuto! Your trickortreatex letter was a great source of inspiration. I hope that this kind of treat is what you had in mind, and that you'll enjoy it.


End file.
